Her Malfoy Man
by MistressMedusa
Summary: Hermione reflects over Her Malfoy Man


**Her Malfoy Man**

Hermione leaned back in her desk chair, her fingers rubbing at her aching temples. Releasing a sigh she cast a look over all the paperwork she still had left to do. She worked in the Treatment of Magical Creatures department of the Ministry. As head of the department, she took care of the rules and regulations concerning each individual creature. She wasn't even half way through the list of beings. There were still; wendigo's, berserker's, phantom's, the fey, the demon dynasties and the werewolves, of course, among many other creatures. Who knew so many beings even existed? It was a wonder that they managed to stay under the Muggle radar, especially with the recent surge in technological advances. Extra caution had to be taken as to not be caught on camera.

She glanced at her watch, noting that her day was almost over. She could take her paperwork home and at least attempt to get some more work done. It would mean less for her to do tomorrow. She could have an early weekend. Or she could go and see _him_.

Lost in thought she recalled their last meeting. They had dined in secret at a Muggle restaurant in London, so as to not rouse his father's suspicion. He obviously wouldn't approve of her dating his son. He was always concerned about keeping up appearances rather than simply enjoying and living his own life without a second thought about others' perceptions. Thankfully, 'Like Father, Like Son' couldn't be applied to them. Oh sure, they certainly looked like each other; they could pass as twins. Well maybe not twins as the effects of ageing began to appear. But they could pass as siblings.

The same sharp silver eyes that seemed to pierce right through to the very soul with a simple glance. The same high aristocratic cheekbones that gave off a haughty air. Small plump lips that always seemed to be held in a smirk. A slender physique with broad shoulders which held just enough muscle to cast an air of power, and of course the glorious mane of pearl white hair. Such a trait could never be ignored and demanded the attention of all passers-by. Son wore it just shorter than father but it was still long enough for Hermione to run her fingers through.

Even certain mannerisms were similar. They both stood tall with their heads held high and their chests puffed out like a male peacock strutting around, showing off its feathers. They were capable of producing equally disdainful sneers threatening enough to make a man resort to acting like a cowering child. Identical smirks had the ability to render females weak need and tongue-tied. The subtle lift of an elegant eyebrow to convey a sense of sarcasm or playfulness.

Yes, when it came to appearances it was clear they had a strong relation, but in personality they couldn't be any more different.

Where father was intent to uphold certain pureblood traditions and etiquette, son had no interest in taking part in such outdated nonsense. He embraced Muggle culture and technology with a desire to learn which Hermione envied. It was always fun introducing him to the latest technology, the look of joy and wonder adorning his face was always a pleasant sight. He resembled a little boy opening his present on Christmas morning, all bouncy and impatient filled with a yearning to know all about his new toys.

His father was a somewhat distant man. Against open displays of affection – as his father had been before him – whereas son seemed to be the first Malfoy to break away from such rigorous indoctrination and embrace emotion. He never held back with Hermione. He was always open and honest with her about the way he felt; both good and bad. Such as the time he told her to stop dressing like a 70 year old librarian who made her clothes out of old curtains. Or the time when he gazed into her eyes after a long walk by the lake and told her that he would never feel for another woman the same way he felt about her. Of course, he was young and didn't know what he was talking about and Hermione told him as much thus leading to another of their great big arguments. But all was soon resolved, although Hermione refused to believe in his confession. After all he was still young and had very little experience of life so far. It was most likely that he was just overwhelmed with the events in his life at the moment. It was a big step to become an adult.

Their relationship was merely a temporary thrill for him. And she was content with that knowledge. She had no preconceived notions that what they had was destined to be more. There were just some factors of their relationship that they would not be able to overcome and it would be foolish to believe otherwise.

The sound of a throat being cleared brought her out of her reverie and she swung around in her chair to face the intruder. There he was, Draco Malfoy, leaning against the doorjamb, the picture of cool indifference, dressed in a formfitting black suit. Of course he would look immaculate; he wouldn't be caught dead looking anything but. He lifted his gaze from the floor towards her and remarked with a tilt of his lips and a raise of his brow:

'So you and my son, eh Granger?'.


End file.
